Strangers

by A. L. Parks

  "Hey," Abby answered, "tough day?"

  "Yeah, tough day," Bryce responded, his voice almost too low to be heard, something just above a whisper. "How about you?"

  Abby recognized this all-too-familiar question that indicated he needed to talk about something other than the time he spent on the beach, the sun beating down on him, but still cold from the memories of a day that took the warmth from his life. He needed a distraction, and Abby could relate, and provide that for him.

  "Well," she started, feigning irritation, "do you remember me telling you about Sharmaine, the older, rather round black woman in my office? She is really a sweetheart, and always has a smile on her face and a kind word – until you piss her off. Well, she and Miss 'I-Know-It-All-And-Then-Some' Allison got into it in the middle of the staff meeting today. Allison was going on about 'some people' in the office, and looked straight at Sharmaine. So Sharmaine stands up, and I swear it is the fastest I have ever seen the woman move, and puts her finger in Allison's face, and just starts ripping into her – 'why are you looking at me and talking about some people. If you have something to say to me, then you better put your big girl pants on and bring it' – I thought I was going to pee my pants!" Abby laughed.

  Bryce let out a little laugh, and offered, "That would’ve been funny, and slightly disgusting."

  "Yes, well lucky for everyone, I have excellent bladder control, most times," she quipped.

  "Most times..." Bryce added, quietly, but with a sarcastic, fun tone. He was coming out of his funk a little bit at a time. "Did you eat?" he asked. Bryce prepared all their meals, stocking her fridge and freezer on Sunday, and was the only source of healthy food Abby usually had.

  "Yes, Mom," she drew out like a petulant child. "I'm eating the rest of your pasta salad."

  "That's healthy...and unexpected," Bryce chuckled.

  "Don't get too excited. I plan on finishing off the butter pecan ice cream later, while watching some sappy love story I have DVR'd."

  "Which sappy love story?" Bryce asked, although Abby knew he was not the least bit interested.

  "Whichever one I have on there, that you haven’t deleted 'accidentally'," she added one-handed air quotes. She had a habit of using air quotes when she spoke, which usually drew a smirk from Bryce.

  A full belly laugh came across the phone. "You used air quotes, didn't you?"

  "Shut the hell up, Holden," she admonished, but a huge smile crossed her face. Receiving the confirmation he needed, Bryce laughed harder. Abby envisioned him sitting on the couch, smile across his face, head thrown back. It was her favorite image of him; happy, smiling, with a sparkle in his usually serious gray eyes. She had made it her mission to make him laugh as often as she could – for him, as well as her.

  Getting his breathing under control, Bryce finally spoke up, "Ahh, God, Abby – only you could make me laugh on this of all days! I don't know what I would do without you."

  "Yeah, well, I am a fairly spectacular friend to have..." Abby conceded jokingly. But heat radiated through her chest, leaving her breathless. "So, things go alright today?" She asked.

  "Yeah, it was warm, but a little windy, so the flowers were drawn out pretty quickly. I watched them until I couldn't see them anymore then sat on the beach for a while. A family came up and plopped their stuff down next to me. Usually, I would have been pissed – but, I don't know, it didn't seem to bother me as much this time. I sat there and watched the kids play for a little while, and then left."

  "Progress," Abby commended him. "Are you going back tomorrow before you take off?"

  "No, I had my time with her, talked to her – told her about you. Even told her to find Trevor, if she could, and tell him that we are friends," Bryce chuckled at himself. "Good thing no one else was around to hear. I'd probably be calling you from some psych ward to come pick me up."

  Abby laughed, and they continued their conversation well into the night, concluding with Abby assuring him that she would see him the following night at the airport. Not long after she had gone to bed, Abby woke screaming, in the throes of a nightmare, trying to pull Trevor from the mangled car. But Trevor only smiled at her, told her he loved her, then took hold of a woman's hand and turned and walked away. It had taken Abby a few minutes after she fully awoke to realize the woman with the bright head scarf and beautiful smile was Emily. Somehow, in the deep recesses of her soul, Abby felt a little more at peace.

  Once Bryce had returned from North Carolina, he threw himself head first into planning the annual charity event at the

  museum. Abby spent long hours at the museum after work, fleshing out ideas, making sure they stayed within the budget, and sending emails to various vendors in order to gather donations. But the highlight of the planning had to have been finding the perfect signature martini for the event. Bryce had come up with the idea of having various types of martinis at the bar. But Abby had suggested that they also come up with a special signature drink that would bear Emily's name.

  Bryce had loved the idea, and informed Abby that she would be responsible for discovering the perfect combination. So Abby had worked with two of the bartenders from the catering company, trying different recipes, tweaking the flavors, until she had been satisfied with the outcome. “Emily's Pink Lady” was going to put all other martinis to shame. Abby was so sure people would fall in love with it, she suggested they include the recipe as an auction item.

  The night of the gala, Abby spent the day at the museum with Bryce until she had to leave to get ready. Bryce's tuxedo hung in his office, waiting for him to change. Abby ran home, showered, and dried her hair. Becca came over and helped Abby fix her hair so that it fell in big curls down her back.

  She smoothed out her floor-length, platinum fitted dress before entering the museum. It had a scoop neck, with an open back, and a slit up her right thigh. Walking into the makeshift ballroom, she surveyed the scene. Everything looked more incredible than she could have imagined. It was amazing how the designer’s rendering had been transformed into reality in such stunning fashion. The string quartet was warming up on the temporary stage, and the waiters were lighting the last of the centerpieces on each round table.

  "Hey," came a voice behind her. Abby turned, and drew in a breath. Bryce stood before her wearing an Armani tuxedo that looked as though it had been made specifically for him. His hair was a little shorter than she had seen it since they had met, but still had a beautiful wave to it. And Abby wanted to run her fingers through it. The thought startled her, but the effect the thought had on her body made her head spin.

  He was pulling at his cuffs, and a frustrated breath escaped. In his hands were cufflinks that he tossed back and forth from one hand to the other, trying to figure out how to get them on.

  Abby looked at him under the hair that had fallen into his face, and over his eyes. "Can I help?" she asked, a smile crossing her face.

  "Please," he responded, and dropped the cufflinks into her hand. She grabbed each cuff, and pushed the cufflink through the holes. When she finished, she looked at him again, and smiled.

  "Thanks," he sighed. "I don't know what I would do without you, Abby."

  "Well, the better question is; what do you plan on doing with me?" The words were out of her mouth before she realized the double entendre. Heat rushed into her cheeks, and she prayed it was dark enough in the room to mask the sudden flush. "I mean, what do you want me to do? To help out tonight?"

  Bryce looked at her for a moment, a mischievous glint in his eye, then turned and looked over at the bar. "I haven't had time to check on the bar set-up, and make sure that no one gives out the secret recipe before the auction. Can you deal with that?"

  "Of course," Abby said, happy to get away from Bryce and the feelings that were taking her over. She made her way to the bar, and spoke with the head bartender. He assured her that everything was set to go, and that all the bartenders had been advised not to discuss the ingredients in the signature drink during the event.

&n
bsp; Abby chatted with various groups of people during the social hour, and answered questions regarding this year's theme. They held their information cards, revealing their secret identities, and the clues they were entrusted with, close to their bodies. When Abby would ask to see them, in order to answer a specific question, they would look at her suspiciously. Many reluctantly handed over the cards; but a few placed them into their pockets or purses, and walked away. Abby just smiled. The evening was sure to be a big success.

  She looked across the dance floor, and caught Bryce's eyes. He smiled at her, as an elderly woman grabbed a hold of his elbow and distracted him. Abby was able to point to the bar before he pulled his eyes from her. He nodded and held up two fingers. Taking a seat at the bar, the bartender stopped in front of her, and asked what she would like.

  "The Pink Lady," she responded.

  "Good choice," he said, and poured the pink cocktail into the frosted martini glass. "This is our signature drink tonight," he added and winked at her. Abby smiled, and sipped the drink.

  "She created that drink," a male voice announced behind her. Bryce sat down next to her, and placed his hand on her lower back. Abby glanced at him, and was taken aback by the protectiveness she saw in his eyes. The bartender looked at Abby and smiled before making his way down the bar to help other guests.

  Bryce turned his gaze back on Abby. His eyes smoldered, as they traveled along her body. He leaned in to her, and whispered close to her ear. "That is a very nice dress. It looks beautiful on you." Everything inside Abby turned to mush, and she felt as though she may melt into a puddle on the floor. She smiled at him a bit sheepishly, and took a drink of her martini. Before she could thank him for the compliment, he was pulled away by someone to discuss something or other with the foundation. Abby had no clue;

  she could not get a coherent thought from her head. She was excited. She was confused. She was heated. And she needed air.

  Making her way towards the American Revolution room, where the doors had been opened onto the balcony, she let the cool breeze calm her, and decrease the burning flame Bryce had ignited. What was happening to her? She felt an attraction for Bryce that was beyond what should happen between best friends. Of course, it was probably nothing more than years of abstaining from intimacy. After all, Bryce was sexy as hell, and Abby was still a woman. It was perfectly normal; and she would just have to get it under control. Bryce was her best friend. No way was she ruining that for a romp in the sack - even though she had no doubt that Bryce was an excellent lover. She took in a deep breath, and exhaled.

  Turning to re-enter the party, Abby noticed a dark-haired woman step out onto the balcony. She was wearing a red sequined dress, with matching red lipstick. Abby smiled at her as she made her way to the door. But the woman stepped in front of her, blocking Abby from leaving.

  "You must be Abby," the woman said, and put out her hand. "I have heard so much about you." Her voice was sweet, but Abby detected an edge to it, as well.

  "Yes, I'm Abby. And you are?" Abby inquired.

  "Sheila Mercer, Chief Financial Officer for The Emily Holden Foundation. I also happened to be good friends with Emily and Bryce." The woman narrowed her eyes at Abby. "You do realize that Bryce will never get over losing his wife, don't you? So, if you were hoping to sweep him off his feet, and ride off into the sunset with him …well, you’re just wasting your time."

  Abby stared at the woman for a moment. A sudden protectiveness swept over her. She was damned well not going to let this woman turn her deep friendship with Bryce into a harlot trying to find a husband. "Well, Sheila; Bryce and I are friends, really good friends. And if we decide to take a ride into the sunset, or anywhere else, that's really our business, and has absolutely nothing to do with the Foundation CFO. But thanks for looking out for me." Abby took a step towards Sheila, who remained rooted to the spot.

  "You’re not the first woman to try and convince Bryce to move on. I really fail to see how you think you will get any farther than the others?" She ran her eyes over Abby, and smirked.

  "And why is that? Because you failed? Again, what happens between Bryce and I is our business. It has nothing to do with you. Now, if you will excuse me, I would like to get back to the party. I'm sure Bryce is looking for me." They glared at each other for another moment, in a heated standoff. Finally, Sheila moved out of the way. Abby walked past her and headed towards the ballroom. She was fuming. But Abby was not sure what upset her more. That Sheila had made an assumption about Abby's intentions towards Bryce; or that she would be correct - that Bryce would never move on. But why should that matter to Abby? They were friends. Best friends. She didn’t have those types of feelings for him. Right?

  Entering the main room, Bryce grabbed her elbow, and pulled her with him towards the stage. "There you are! We are about to get started, and I need you here to make sure I don't totally fuck this thing up."

  "No worries, I've got your back, Holden. You'll be great."

  Bryce smiled at Abby, and she squeezed his hand. He walked out to the center of the stage, and welcomed everyone to the gala, and hoped they all brought their imaginations, and their checkbooks. The room erupted in laughter, and Bryce looked over at Abby and winked. He went on to explain the "special art display" that had been loaned to the museum for the annual event, and that it was worth several millions of dollars. Not long after that, the room went dark, and murmurs filled the air. Abby moved around to the hallway behind the stage to make sure the removal of the "special art" pieces went smoothly. Bryce came off the stage, and stood in front of Abby, a broad smile across his face. Men followed behind him with a large framed mural, and attempted to get past them. Bryce pushed Abby against the wall, and moved in close so the men could get by. A breath caught in her throat, and her chest rose and fell in time with her rapidly beating heart. Her back was flat against the wall; her hands at her side, her fingers splayed. His hands framed her head. His mouth was inches from hers. His hot breath stoked her internal fire.

  "You really look amazing tonight, Abby," he whispered in her ear. He brushed his lips lightly over her jaw. She held her breath, paralyzed by the desire that coursed through her. The anticipation of him kissing her made her dizzy. She wanted his lips pressed against hers. Wanted to taste him…

  The lights came up, and a voice called for him to return to the stage. He exhaled, opened his eyes, and pushed away from her. She watched as he walked back onto the stage, running his hand through his hair, before taking the microphone from the man who had summoned him.

  Abby finally let out the breath she had been holding. Her knees were weak. She feared she might crumple to the ground. She stood; eyes closed, and tried to bring her rapid heart rate down. The memory of his lips barely touching her skin, sent tingles through her again. She placed her hand over the area where his lips had just been. God, she had wanted him in that moment. What was going on between them? Did Bryce want her, also? Or was this just two people who had not had sex in a very long time, letting hormones take over like high school kids discovering sex for the first time? Abby had no idea. She just knew that this was probably a really bad idea, one that could ruin their friendship if it went too far. She pushed herself off the wall, and made her way back into the ballroom.

  She was not in close proximity to Bryce for the remainder of the night. They were both busy trying to assist the partygoers with the spy duties. Each table had to work together to come up with the names of the potential art thieves. Abby made her way around four- or five tables, asking questions, gently prodding people towards clues they had not considered, and generally having a good time talking to everyone. She was amazed at how everyone seemed to really enjoy being part of the entertainment, and took their "spy" roles seriously.

  Abby fell into a club chair in the foyer, slipped off her shoes and let out a soft moan. Her feet were throbbing. She pulled another chair towards her, and propped her feet up on it. Hands rested on her shoulders, and Abby dropped her head back to see Bryce st
anding behind her. He rubbed the tight muscles, loosening them and sending a rush of warmth through Abby.

  "That feels so good. Thank you," she said, and closed her eyes. Bryce laughed softly.

  "I'm the one who should be thanking you, Abby. Everyone I spoke to said this was the most fun they have ever had at a fundraising event." He moved around in front of her, lifted her feet off the chair, and sat down. Resting her feet back in his lap, he slowly massaged them. "I think you could have a successful career as an event planner, if the whole bean-counting gig falls through."

  She laughed, and opened her eyes. Lost in the sparkling sea of gray, she wondered if her light-headedness was due to the martinis, exhaustion, or Bryce. She could almost feel his lips as they traveled along her jaw from earlier in the night. She had been so disappointed that they had not made their way to her lips. She had wanted him to kiss her so badly. But that couldn’t happen. They were friends. And as much as Abby didn’t want to admit it, she was sure Sheila Mercer had been correct. Bryce would never get over losing Emily, and would never have another relationship that intimate again.

  "So, Sheila Mercer," Abby said. "She's kind of a whack job."

  "That's one way to put it. I take it you met her?" Bryce asked, switching feet to massage. Abby watched Bryce for a moment, and noticed he was holding his breath.

  "Yeah, she cornered me out on the terrace off the AR room." Abby paused for a moment. "So, I'm guessing - based on her warning to me - she hit on you, and you turned her down."

  Bryce stopped, and looked up at her. "What warning?"

  "Don't evade the question."

  "Yes, she hit on me. Well, she 'hits' on me. I'm not sure she has ever really gotten the hint, because the woman is persistent." He sighed, shook his head, and began working on her foot again.

  "Has anything ever happened between you and her?" Abby asked, although she had no idea why she wanted to know, or how it was any of her business.

  "No," he answered, and looked up at her. "Never. And it never will. You're turn. What warning?"